“The children loved Birdworld,” she volunteered, irritated that he hadn’t asked.
When she finally managed to get to her desk after putting the children to bed and making Olivier a Lemsip, there was no e-mail from Jack. She pressed Send and Receive again just to make sure, but no messages were displayed. She bit her bottom lip and frowned. Perhaps he had gone away for the weekend. No one checked their e-mails on a Saturday. She’d look again tomorrow, but realistically there was no point looking until Monday.
She went downstairs to run a bath to find the room filled with a cloud of eucalyptus. There, slouched in the armchair, a towel thrown over his head, sat Olivier inhaling a bowl of boiling water and Karvol. My knight in shining armor, she thought, rolling her eyes. Sometimes I want to kick this dog right off the porch!
7
People treat you according to how you allow yourself to be treated.
In Search of the Perfect Happiness
On Monday Angelica met Candace in the reception room at Ten Pilates in Notting Hill. Candace, immaculate in a beige tracksuit, smiled broadly and dropped her mobile telephone into her chocolate-brown Birkin.
“You look glamorous for the gym,” said Angelica.
“This isn’t just a gym, honey. This is the hottest ticket in town!”
Angelica looked around at the tall, willowy girls coming out of their classes, dabbing their necks and faces with towels. Among them she saw a face she recognized.
“Hey, doll,” said Scarlet breathlessly. “It was hell today. David’s on a roll.” She turned to Candace. “Have you warned her about the Higgins Ten?”
“What’s that?” Angelica asked nervously.
Candace enlightened her. “It’s David’s trademark. He counts ten and you think you’re going to die, you’ve already done a minute or so and your ass is killing you. But just when you think it’s over, he demands ten more. Does it every time. Don’t be fooled by the countdown. There’s always another ten.”
“Hence Ten Pilates,” said Angelica brightly.
“I’m not sure that’s exactly what he had in mind,” said Scarlet. “More likely the ten torture beds you see before you.” She registered Angelica’s anxious face. “Don’t panic, he’ll be kind to you as you’re a beginner. Have you had a pedicure?”
“No!”
“Keep your socks on then. Don’t embarrass yourself!”
“She’s joking,” said Candace. “Trust me, he’s not looking at your toes—that man’s only interested in muscle!”
Angelica filled out the required health form, then followed Candace into the studio, where ten Reformer beds were lined in two rows in front of an enormous mirrored wall. Candace dropped her bag on the sofa and put her long hair into a ponytail. “Hey, David, I want you to meet my friend Angelica Lariviere.” A lithe Australian with a thick mop of dark brown hair extended his hand.
“Good to meet you,” he said with a smile. Angelica was not encouraged. I’m going to have to sweat and heave and groan in front of that Adonis? “Have you done this before?” he asked, and Angelica tried to look past his boyish good looks to the professional instructor who was going to turn her into a supermodel.
“No, it’s my first time.”
“Well, let me show you how these Reformers work.” Thank GOD he didn’t say bed. She followed him over to what looked like a rack of torture with ropes and springs, trying to take it all in so as not to make a fool of herself. “How fit are you?” he asked.
“Not fit at all. Two children, too much cake, sitting at a desk all day—you get the picture.”
“No worries, we’ll get you in shape.” Angelica wished she’d had that pedicure.
“If you get confused, just watch me,” said Candace, taking the Reformer beside her friend and lying on her back. “It’ll soon become second nature.” She put her legs in the air, threw a ring over her feet, and proceeded to stretch. “So, what’s the news on the e-mail front?”
“Hot and heavy,” Angelica replied, lying down and trying to stretch like Candace but barely managing to straighten her legs.
“You’re crazy, Angelica. Where’s it going?”
“It’s not going anywhere. It’s just fun.”
“Perhaps, but be careful.”
“Olivier’s driving me insane at the moment. This is a distraction.”
“It might get out of hand. Has he asked you out for lunch yet?”
“Of course not. He’s in South Africa.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”